Something Left
by The Assassin's Pen
Summary: Spoilers for Age of Ultron. "Wanda was too numb with pain, with grief, to fight anymore. She hated Vision for rescuing her. Hated him for holding her tight and pulling her away when her brother's body was probably falling like a star into the cruel water below." A Pietro lives one shot, T for injuries. Early Wanda/Vision.


Wrote in part for myself and in part for my sister, who was crushed after Pietro died. This file is called . Enjoy

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Wanda was too numb with pain, with grief, to fight anymore. She hated Vision for rescuing her. Hated him for holding her tight and pulling her away when her brother's body was probably falling like a star into the cruel water below. Her power shoved against him as he encircled her in his arms, but he didn't let go or even flinch and she could read in his mind that his worry for her was second only to his compassion and sympathy. Young as he was, mechanical though his birth, he felt for her pain. So she curled up against his chest and gripped the rim of his cape, pressing her nose into his collarbone and wishing she could weep.

When they reached the helicarrier everyone who wanted to be there was accounted for. Thor had plunged into the water below and would have drowned if Tony hadn't kept hold of his consciousness for the both of them and dove in after him, but they were both alive. Exhausted. Haggard. But alive. The Hulk made it clear he wanted to leave, and that left Natasha standing glassy eyed at the front of the carrier until her training overpowered and she snapped into helping where she could. Steve had long ago disappeared into the ranks of survivors to help.

Clint had underestimated how much blood he'd actually lost and had passed out, but not before placing a hand on Wanda's shoulder and looking her in the eye with all the sympathy he didn't have words for.

"I owe him everything," he said finally, and his voice broke as tears brimmed. Wanda was stiff, staring back at Clint, understanding his gratitude but finding no place in her heart to accept it.

"Yes," she said finally, her fists balled at her sides. "You do."

Clint was alive to go back to his family because of her brother's sacrifice. Wanda had lost everything. Vision stayed at her back like a silent god, only her sense of another presence there to give him away. He walked a few paces behind her, as though curious and fearful and sad all at once. He was fearful she'd do something rash—though she wasn't sure why he cared. He was sad because she was sad and he was new and impressionable, and he was curious because even though he had the knowledge of the universe in his new body there was a learning that happened only through experience. He knew grief in all its forms and definitions, but he had never witnessed it.

She tolerated him at first, finding a kind of solace in his alienness. But when she was ushered into a private room where they'd laid her brother's body out on a table, her fury at Vision's intervention flared again and she turned on him, eyes blazing. "Get out!" she demanded, shoving his chest with both hands and all her might, her power flaring around his shoulders like the tatters of a broken shield. Vision moved back, but only voluntarily. She was too weak and too distraught to have any real effect on him. He blinked, gazing down at her, then turning his strange eyes on her brother's body.

"Don't look at him," she seethed, fists balling and the air charged. "I should have died with him, but you stole that—stole him from me. You do not deserve to look upon his face."

"You mourn him so soon," Vision said softly, his brow furrowed as he turned his eyes on her, and away from Pietro. He looked confused. "Must you mourn him so soon? Can he not yet be saved?"

She choked, the grief pulling her shoulders inward as she turned away and braced her shaking hands against the table. She gazed at her brother's slack face and caressed his jaw, shuddering at the cool feeling of blood as it smeared against his throat. "He is no machine," she said quietly, squeezing her eyes shut as her tears took hold. She pressed her forehead to Pietro's and let out a shuddering breath. "We cannot simply re-build him and plug him in, or construct a new body." She lifted her head, breathing shaky as she held a hand over his forehead, tracing his brows, his nose, the cool curve of his lips with a feather touch. She rest her hand on his chest and splay her fingers across the wounds, her heart aching with longing for his distinctive heartbeat.

"Why?"

She paused, turning to look at Vision, who hadn't moved from his place near the door. He was looking at Pietro's peaceful face, but his eyes turned to meet hers.

"Why can we not repair his body? His mind has been preserved. The electrical activity—"he paused, as though checking himself. He moved his jaw back and forth almost imperceptibly, as though tasting the words he was considering before using them. "His spirit is still here," he amended. His brow furrowed and he cocked his head. "Can you not feel him?"

Wanda stared at him, then turned back to Pietro, searching his face for some sign, fighting against the cold that was slowly settling into her brother's body. With his high metabolism she'd never suffered insomnia since the first night she'd crawled into his bed at five. He would wrap her in his arms and she would curl her head against his chest, the steady cadence of his pulse and the heat of his skin better than any blanket, any lullaby. That was all gone, torn savagely and buried useless in the dirt by a dozen cruel pieces of metal. If only their father had been there.

And yet—there was something left. Closing her eyes, praying with every fiber in her body, she reached forward and cradled Pietro's head, turning her own to press her cheek against his, to bury her face in his shoulder. She tasted something metallic and swallowed it back, feeling a tingling at the base of her skull. She hardly dared to hope.

Vision's hand came to rest on her shoulder and she jumped, turning to look at him even as she arched herself over Pietro's body, though she didn't know what she was protecting him from anymore. Did that mean she had something to protect? Vision didn't flinch back from her violent turn.

"I can help him. Let me help him."

She stared into his gaze for a long time, her fingers trembling against Pietro's breast until they weren't anymore and she realized that something wasn't right. Something still glowed in the deepest part of her brother's mind, and she clung to it.

"How?" she whispered.

They still had the cradle. It was blackened and damaged from Thor's intervention, but it needed to be little more than a vessel with Dr. Cho and her materials onboard.

As Vision entered the lab with Pietro cradled in his arms and Wanda at his side, Cho swallowed, resting a hand on the dark metal. "I can repair the tissues, but there's no guarantee that we'll be able to take him off life-support. His cells are already dying and the damage to his brain—" she shook her head. She knew it was impossible. They could repair Pietro's torn muscle and punctured organs. They could irrigate dying muscle with oxygen and nutrients and stimulants that bordered on magic and bring his remarkable heart back to pumping, but he would be a living shell. His brain had been without oxygen for hours, and she knew that if they scanned it none of the beauty of a living brain would arch across the monitor screen. Pietro's spirit was gone. "I'm so sorry," she said, wishing she had better news.

"Trust me," Wanda said, threading her fingers with Pietro's limp ones and pulling her head back a little further. "He's not gone completely. Do this, and you will see."

Cho's heart clenched, she wavered, thinking of all the others who would need her help. She glanced at Vision, then at Wanda, and the determination in the other woman's eyes was too much to bear. Pietro had laid down his life for one of their own. The least she could do was try and give it back to him.

It took hours to remove the debris from his wounds and hook Pietro into the right cocktail of drugs and minerals and stardust. The cradle was full of clear, warm liquid and Pietro was suspended in it, lines going to and from him, bringing his body tools of repair and returning with information on what was done and what was being done.

For twelve days Wanda lived by the cradle's side, watching as complications arose and Cho worked tirelessly past them. When Wanda couldn't keep her eyes open any more she lay her head against the window of the cradle and closed her eyes. She shivered against the cool metal and didn't realize that when she stopped it was because Vision had draped his cape over her and taken up her vigil. Every night, every day, for the entire watch Vision stayed just out of notice, stepping in and sitting guard when Wanda gave way to grief and exhaustion.

On the dawn of the thirteenth day Wanda woke with a start, Vision's gold cape rippling to the floor like liquid as she stood suddenly up, hands splayed against the glass where she was staring into eyes looking sightless back. A flashing panel on the side of the cradle had sent an alert to Cho in the next room, who sprinted in, frantically going over Pietro's information.

"Doctor?" Vision asked politely after several long moments when Cho paused, a look of wonder on her face.

"The process is complete. Pietro's body is fully healed." She blinked, shocked at the success after so many days of failed readings and setbacks. She keyed in the release code and the top of the cradle split open, sliding back as the bottom lifted Pietro out of the goop so the final work could be done. With care, Cho wiped the fluid from Pietro's face, using suction to remove the traces of it from his mouth and nose like he was a newborn. His head lolled in her hand, and though his eyes were closed again and he wasn't breathing just yet Wanda took a strange comfort in seeing the supple movement of the tendons in his neck as Cho worked. Rigor mortis would have set in days ago, paralyzing the miracle of strung muscle and bone that her brother inhabited. He appeared as one only sleeping.

Cho laid Pietro's head back down with great care, sweeping his hair back from his face and checking his eyes with a quick swipe of her penlight and a gentle hand. His pupils reacted, though there was nothing more than nervous reflex in their gaze. A warning flashed about oxygen levels dropping, but just as Cho was ready to plunge Pietro back under and start again he coughed, his body expelling the remaining fluid and allowing him to take his first breath since the end of the battle. His head arched back and his lung expanded, color flushing his skin suddenly as Cho injected a stimulant to nudge his heart back into action. The beautiful peaking of blue light struck across the screen above his head like quicksilver and Wanda covered her mouth, overwhelmed with joy. Cho didn't look so relieved. Pietro's brain still wasn't showing functionality.

"Wanda…" she said after several long moments, placing a hand on the young woman's shoulder even as she hunched over her brother, pleading with him in their native language.

Vision stepped in, shaking his head. Gently, he took Cho by the shoulders and guided her away. "Let me," he said. She clasped her hands together and sought his face for a moment before nodding.

He went quietly up to Wanda, who was cupping Pietro's face, her fingers trembling with a new fear that it hadn't worked, that the spark she'd felt was all wrong. He covered her trembling hand with his own and guided it up to cup Pietro's skull. Vision leaned against Wanda's back, lowering his lips near her ear to get through her frantic muttering.

"Wanda," he said gently. "You have to let him go back to his body." He pressed her fingers into Pietro's temples, guiding her hands with his own and keeping them there. "You've held him long enough. Let him free."

Wanda's brows furrowed and the tension built in her mind until it hurt. A nameless drain had been sipping at her powers for days, but she'd paid it no mind, too focused on Pietro, on begging him to return to her.

"Let him go," Vision whispered. "Trust me. Trust yourself. Let him go."

With a sudden break of surrender Wanda's head dropped and she slumped across Pietro's body, the shields she'd been maintaining unconsciously shuddering apart. All at once warmth and light flooded Pietro's consciousness and Wanda gasped, looking at her brother's eyes just in time to see them open. This time, they knew her.

"Wanda?" he croaked blearily, and she was so overwhelmed she began to sob, pressing kisses to his brow, his eyelids, his cheeks. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair as she clung to him, his eyes only half open, exhaustion evident. Cho was standing in shocked stillness, staring at the reunited siblings. Vision turned to her.

"You are confused."

She coughed a laugh, clutching her data pad. "You speak in understatements."

"Wanda's powers are vast, Dr. Cho. She can see through time, and bend it to her will when she must. Normally such a feat as we have witnessed would be impossible in a human body, but when Pietro died Wanda's grief and love for him lashed out in a way she didn't know was possible. She froze his brain in time, preserving its function and Pietro's consciousness. For us it has been nearly a fortnight since Pietro fell. For him it's been barely minutes. He will need to recover, but he is very much alive."

After extensive testing Cho finally released Pietro, sending news to the rest of the Avengers about their miracle. The time for reunion with the others would come, but for that first day Pietro and Wanda thought only of each other. Pietro lay in a recovery bed, and Wanda curled by his side, listening to his heart when they fell from their hushed conversation into sleep or simple peace. Though neither twin knew it, Vision stood guard outside their door.


End file.
